


And When The World Comes To An End, Please Be There To Hold My Hand

by Tayathestrange



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Budding feelings, Dystopia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Mentions of Major Character Death, Morgana's only mentioned, The Last of Us AU, Video Game AU, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, on a mission, travel companions, zombie related violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 23:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17272865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayathestrange/pseuds/Tayathestrange
Summary: Fifteen years after the downfall of civilization the world has come to a complete stillstand. The remnants of humanity are scattered all over the country, the only safe place for most people the so called safe-zones which are fully controlled by military rule. Camelot safe-zone has been in Colonel Uther Pendragon's hands since he established it in the first year of the outbreak of a seemingly incurable infection being spread by a rapidly growing fungus. He is ruling with an iron fist, convinced that only he can ensure survival. But a rebel group, who call temselves the Druids, are of a different opinion. Striving for an alternative government to end Uther's dictatorship they have been trying to develop a vaccine against the fungus infection that turns people into raging zombies. Despite their determination, their efforts have been in vain until now, the work made even more difficult by an official prohibition to study the fungus and its effects any further. But now a new factor has come into play, creating a chance that Morgana, one of the Druid's secret leaders and daugther to Uther, had been waiting for.





	And When The World Comes To An End, Please Be There To Hold My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddishly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddishly/gifts).



> This work has been created for the [Merlin Holidays Fest](https://merlin-holidays.livejournal.com/) on livejournal as a gift for oddishly.  
> Thank you a lot guys, for hosting this great event once again!
> 
> Since The Last Of Us is an amazing game I've been thinking about writing an AU featuring Merlin-characters for quite some time. Insert oddishly's prompts and tags which also featured things like Apocalypse AU and Zombie AU. It was perfect! Not so perfect was that I didn't really have the time to write the story I wanted so I had to compromise and only write a small part of it. So the fic is more like an extraction from a main story. I hope I was able to catch the vibe of a Zombie Apocalypse and also bring this to an at least partially satisfying conclusion.  
> Arthur and Merlin are not in a relationship here since the situation doesn't really give them much room to explore their feelings (and they also haven't known eachother for long). But if I ever write the full story they'll definitely get together at some point.
> 
> Happy New Year to everyone!

**And When The World Comes To An Ende, Please be There To Hold My Hand**

Arthur awoke with a mouldy smell in his nose. It was the stinging odour of bed sheets that hadn’t been changed in years and a mattress so old it was probably decomposing inside. Not too long ago he would’ve gagged and coughed to ban it from his nostrils, but at the moment he welcomed it.

As soon as he dared to close his eyes he saw his sister. Morgana’s features were twisted in agony, the light of a torch carving the lines even sharper. She was crying and begging. The picture always vanished when he opened them again, but the stench of blood usually remained.  
Mouldy bed sheets were a blessing at this point.

Climbing from the bed Arthur noticed that dawn had long since broken, the sun already hanging high in the sky. It must be around ten in the morning. Merlin let him sleep in, again. He cursed and made his way downstairs, where he found his stubborn travel companion occupying a couch which looked about as comfortable as the mattress.

Merlin was awake, though his eyelids were drooping. The 9mm he never parted with was resting on his thigh, his right hand comfortably curled around the handle. This had been their arrangement for almost two weeks now. One of them would take watch while the other could snatch a few hours of sleep. They’d switch halfway through the night. It was a good system if Merlin wouldn’t constantly decide to let him sleep longer than agreed.

“Merlin, the sun’s already up. Why didn’t you wake me?”

Merlin rolled his eyes before directing his gaze from the window that oversaw the front garden to the Blond, who was still standing at the foot of the stairs. 

“Well, good morning to you, too, Mr. Grumpy Pants”, he greeted, putting on his sweetest smile.

Arthur wasn’t impressed.

“We had agreed you’d wake me at dawn.”

“It’s summer, Arthur, the sun rises at a godforsaken hour. Nobody should be awake that early.”

Pushing his fingers through his hair Arthur released a frustrated groan and went over to the couch.

“Why do we keep having this argument?” he grumbled while throwing his pack next to Merlin’s on the floor, kneeling down to rummage through it.

Merlin joined him, shoving his gun into the back of his trousers. Their shoulders brushed when he started to fiddle with the clasp of his backpack, but he ignored the comforting prickle that was ‘caused by the brief contact and took a bottle from his bag.  
“Because your ridiculous military discipline will kill you at some point, Arthur Pendragon”, he replied and shoved the container into Arthur’s hands.

“It’s not ‘ridiculous’”, Arthur contered, unscrewing the lid with annoyed determination, “it’s called ‘being prepared’ in order to ‘survive’. It’s what keeps us alive.”

Now it was Merlin’s turn to groan in frustration. Though they hadn’t been on the road that long Arthur’s lectures on discipline, strategy and survival were starting to repeat themselves. It may be true that the training he must’ve received during his upbringing had made their trip a lot smoother up until now, but the man’s almost brooding earnesty did nothing to lighten the mood. Then again, even ignoring the current state of the world, his travel companion had probably too much on his plate to think of anything uplifting.

Waving the tedious argument aside he left Arthur to drink the rainwater he had gathered from a barrel in the back garden and went through his supplies. Besides the minimum required amount of more or less clean clothing he found another package of ammunition, some bandages and disinfectant, another bottle, and his last two granola bars. Merlin sighed.

“We should get going and find some food”, he suggested.

The other man felt a tickle of amusement.

“Is your tummy growling, Merlin? Wishing you’d have woken me sooner?”

Arthur had to duck fast in order to avoid being hit in the head in order to avoid the backpack which Merlin shouldered with a little too much momentum.

“Shut up, Grumpy Pants”, Merlin only mumbled while he walked over to the front door and peeked outside.

Joining him Arthur threw a last glance back into their temporary home. It must’ve been a cozy place once, with flower tapestry, an assortment of wooden furniture and a soot-blackened fireplace. For a moment he tried to imagine the people who had spent their nights on the now decaying couch. An elderly couple maybe, with a dog. Arthur could almost see them in front of the fire, sharing a pot of tea. But the peeling wallpaper and destroyed cupboards interfered with the peaceful image. Shaking his head he turned to the door and came face to face with Merlin.

After he had ensured that the coast was clear Merlin had directed his gaze towards the living room to see if his companion was ready to leave. The almost wistful look on the man’s face while he studied the run-down place surprised him. Arthur was definitely nobody who wore his emotions on his sleeve. It had him wonder what thought could bring down that controlled mask he always carried. 

“What?” Arthur asked, irritation lacing his voice. 

“Nothing.” Merlin shook his head slightly. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get going.”

* * *

The neighbourhood they’d ended up in appeared quiet. Nobody was wandering the sidewalk, no traffic could be heard in the distance. If it hadn’t been for the shattered windows gracing most home fronts and the occasional car rusting in the middle of the road one could’ve thought it to be an ordinary Sunday morning.

They walked quietly for a while, attentively observing their surroundings in order to spot any potential threat in time. Merlin’s eyes were sweeping over buildings and front gardens that were overgrown by weeds and creepers alike. Fifteen years since the world had ended and nature was happily moving on, inexorably claiming more ground every day. No matter what happened to humanity, certain parts of life would always go on, undisturbed and peaceful.

The thought made him take another look at Arthur. He had been on edge since they got out of the house, sweeping the nozzle of his gun up and down the road. It made Merlin nervous, but he didn’t dare to reprimand his companion. He knew what was going through the man’s head after all.

“You dreamed of Morgana, didn’t you?”

The unexpected question ripped Arthur from his concentrated state. It came at him like an invisible, gut-wrenching punch, making him lower his gun slowly and turn to Merlin with haunted eyes.

“What?” he said, feeling his mouth go dry.

Merlin lowered his eyes apologetically. He knew that he shouldn’t meddle in Arthur’s business, but it felt wrong to avoid the obvious elephant in the room.

Both of them had come to a halt. Besides the hairdresser on the opposite side of the street the buildings were still awfully uniform, the silence around them slightly unnerving. 

“I can hear you speak her name in your sleep sometimes. This morning I heard you shout.”

Arthur could feel a sting of embarrassment colouring his cheeks, agitating him.

“No matter what you think you’ve heard, you have no right to ask me about her”, he bit out.

Morgana’s death was still too fresh, still too close to be spoken of. Even in a world where it had become normal to expect somebody’s demise any second the pain was not less. Arthur thought that he’d been prepared. Years of watching close friends die and turn, watching his comrades getting ripped apart should’ve numbed him sufficiently. But when his sister bled out in his arms it was like if he was sixteen again and their life had erupted into chaos. It had made no sense, she shouldn’t have been there. But Morgana’d always been stubborn.

For a moment the feeling of helplessness was back, creeping into Arthur’s heart like poison, constricting his lungs and limiting his view to Merlin’s tortured features. Arthur had tried to blame that man after it happened. He had looked at this stranger and wanted to wrap his hands around the pale neck to squeeze every last breath from him. But Morgana had still been talking, begging him and he had found that he couldn’t harm him. He knew it wasn’t Merlin’s fault.

In the days that followed Arthur learned enough about his companion to become convinced that his sister had known him for several years and she had trusted him. And finding trust and respect with Morgana was not an easy feat. Arthur had not only found himself impressed but also recognised these feelings stirring in himself. But still, with the events of that night only a fortnight behind them the grief was still too strong. He needed somebody to blame and the only person to deserve his wrath was beyond his reach.

Merlin was aware of Arthur’s turmoil, the aggravation painted plain as day over his stoney face. To approach the topic further was probably his funeral, but the longer they tried to avoid it the more it was eating at the both of them, creating a chasm that could prove deadly on their journey.

“How can you say that? I know she’s your sister, but she’s my friend, too. We worked closely together for over three years.”

Arthur released an ugly snort that spoke of no amusement.

“'Work'. Funny. I’d call it 'treason'.”

It was like as if he had slapped him. Merlin felt the hairs in his neck rising, blood rushing in his ears, colouring them an angry red. Clenching his fists he stepped closer.

“It’s not treason to demand fair treatment and a just government. This is what Morgana stood for. How can you disrespect that?”

“She paid with her life for it!”

Arthur turned his body to fully face the younger man now. Red splotches appeared on his cheeks, his wide eyes creating an almost mad expression. The gun was still in his hand and under normal circumstances he’d never let himself be ruled by his emotions while clutching a weapon. But their situation was as far from normal as he’d come since mankind had turned into an endangered species and Arthur was done with keeping himself under control.

“She died protecting you!”

Tears shot into Merlin’s eyes, the accusation hitting a nerve deep inside. He had been fighting to keep his thoughts from wandering to the same conclusion, knowing that Morgana’d probably return from the dead to kill him if she knew he was blaming himself. But hearing Arthur spell it out for him, the brother who she’d always speak of so fondly despite complaining about his antics, ripped open a wound Merlin had been struggling to patch up.

Releasing a shout Merlin’s hands clawed into Arthur’s shirt. The velocity of the attack let the other stumble backwards until his back hit a car parked behind them. The mixture of surprise and shock wiped the anger off Arthur’s face.

“Shut up!”, Merlin snarled, clenching his teeth. “Shut the fuck up!”

First tears were escaping his eyes and he hated himself for it.

“Merlin…”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he muttered through his tears, his nose just centimeters from Arthur’s. “Do you think I haven’t told myself the same thing everyday? That I haven’t seen my friend in my dreams?”

Arthur’s mouth stood agape. In the short time he had known this man, even in the most straining situation had Merlin never shown such an outbreak. Not even in that night. It had bought Arthur’s respect for him but also his disdain. How could he shrug off Morgana’s death like it was nothing? But obviously Merlin’s nightmares, though indecipherable, had brought him the same torture as Arthur’s own. 

Merlin’s heated glare held Arthur’s for another heartbeat, but when he didn’t receive a reply he huffed in resignation and loosened his grip.

“You’re really an arse, Arthur Pendragon”, he said, wiping the wetness from his cheeks in an almost petulant gesture.

The phrase stung, reminding Arthur so much of Morgana whenever she’d thought his behaviour unbearable. He was at a loss as how to deal with his companion’s outbreak, so when his mouth opened on its own he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. And he’d never get a chance to find out.

A high screech of pure, undeluded, animalistic rage pierced their ears. Their heads shot up, eyes straining to find the source. Between the two buildings behind Merlin was a slim path leading to one of the back gardens. At its end, half hidden in the shadows, they found it.

The infected was clenching its teeth. Its stance was tense, the movement typically ragged. There was a growl coming from deep within, sounding like approaching thunder. Whoever this had been before they couldn’t have been infected for long. Merlin was unable to detect any visible growth around the head, there also appeared to be no restriction to the eyesight or vocal cords.

Arthur moved next to Merlin the moment the creature started to charge. There was a gate between them, but rust had gotten the better of it, making the hinges crumble and give way as soon a the infected rammed it in full speed. 

Though holding up his gun Merlin hesitated to shoot. Without a silencer the shot could attract too much attention. But his companion was already taking care of their intruder. Two bullets to the head had it stumble and fall before it could reach them. Crashing face first into the ground it stopped directly in front of Merlin’s feet. The smugness of Arthur’s expression was almost unbearable and he would’ve loved to wipe it from the man’s face if something else hadn’t caught his attention. Crouching down he pushed the creature’s head aside. 

Arthur watched curiously as he saw Merlin reach out and rip something from its neck. When it was dangling in front of his nose a moment later he understood. It was a necklace. The charm consisted of three lines spiraling in on themselves and connecting at their core. His eyes met Merlin’s.

“This is the Druid symbol.”

Merlin nodded, concern lacing his features.

“We’re getting closer to the university so I was expecting an outpost. But this…”

“This doesn’t mean anything”, Arthur cut into his grim thoughts. “Outside the safe zones everybody’s in constant danger. This was probably just an unlucky incident.”

His hand came up to Merlin’s shoulder to squeeze it reassuringly. The gentle gesture grounded the younger man and he gave his companion a firm nod. 

Arthur was about to suggest they move on, when a new sound came to their attention. This one was more subtle, easier to overhear than the crazed, animalistic cries of the early stage infected. If someone was to ask Arthur’d describe it as almost mechanic, like gears shifting and turning inside a clockwork. This didn’t bode well for them.

From another garden a figure staggered onto the pavement. The sight of it forced Merlin to hold his breath. He stood frozen, struggling to take in the monstrosity before them. This one, though still humanoid, had definitely been infected longer. Its clothes were tattered and ripped, arms and legs already overgrown by the fungus. But these traces were nothing compared to the growth above its neck. At this stage the fungus had cracked the skull to grow from the brain to the outside, covering the head completely and turning it into a heavy, misshapen mass. 

“Clicker”, Arthur whispered.

On their trip they had encountered a few but never this close. Since its eyes had vanished into the overgrowth it was blind to its surroundings, improving its hearing all the more.

Merlin felt a tug at his sweater. Arthur gestured for him to follow. Though the infected must’ve been alerted by the screams of its kin it seemed like they hadn’t been discovered yet. Turning carefully on their heels they made an attempt to get away without attracting further attention. They made slow but steady progress, Arthur walking backwards to keep his gun trained on the thing. Though he was convinced it hadn’t heard them it was still following, as if sensing them. The thought was unsettling.

They managed to reach the next intersection and Merlin scanned their surroundings. If they were lucky they’d get enough space between themselves and the creature to start running after they had crossed the street. 

They were not lucky.

The scream erupted to Merlin’s right as soon as he stepped out onto the faded crosswalk. Before he could even attempt to raise the gun a heavy weight crashed into him, tackling him to the floor.

“Merlin!”, Arthur shouted, the clicker momentarily forgotten. But there was no time to intervene, seeing that another infected was already making its way towards them. 

Training his gun on it Arthur fired a few precise shots to deal with the threat quickly. The distraction had lasted long enough though to alert the clicker to his location. Its gait was steadying fast as it gained velocity, heading straight for Arthur. Further shots were useless in slowing its progress and seemed to only intensify its rage.

Merlin could barely make out the shouts and shots over the snarling and growling echoing from his attackers foul mouth. Stinking saliva was dripping onto his face, but all he could think of were those eyes. Red rimmed and blood shot they had lost anything human, reminding him more of a rabid animal. He pushed against the creature’s shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep it at bay. Grunting with effort Merlin put his whole weight onto one side, loosening its hold on him. It screeched, the sound unbearably high, but he endured until he was able to roll them around. His gun was several meters in front of him. He scrambled forward to grab it and kept running, knowing that the infected was too close to get a good aim. 

His breath coming harshly he looked around to find anything that could end the chase. There was a car sitting crossways in the middle of the street, its nose and rear touching the vehicles parked to both sides. The position was cutting off any way around. Merlin threw a quick glance backwards to ensure that his persecutor was still behind him. 

“Perfect”, he grit out and came to a crashing halt. 

The passenger door gave after a brief fight, groaning after years of exposure. The interior was covered in a thick layer of dust which swirled up into an unpleasant cloud as soon as Merlin dove in. Coughing, he kicked his legs out, trying to find purchase on the seat and push himself to the other side. Another scream emitting behind him raised his panic to a new hight.

“Shit!”

Something was holding him back. The infected had already caught up, hands grabbing for his ankles. Feeling frantically around Merlin found a strap of his backpack had gotten caught on the gear shift. With a frustrated scream he ripped it free and gave himself another push which had him tumbling out of the drivers door. Raising every ounce of willpower and discipline he found in his veins he got up and turned around. Before the beast could follow him his foot smashed into the door, effectively trapping it behind. In a matter of seconds the creature’s head broke through the window, slivers of skin being cut away, but there was no care or pain in its expression, only hunger. It screeched and snarled and raged at Merlin, unable to free itself. The view was just as frightening as it was pathetic. Fighting to bring his ragged breath under control Merlin put his gun between its eyes.

“Goodbye”, he whispered, almost apologetically, before he pulled the trigger.

He had to get back to Arthur.

Arthur had no idea where Merlin had gone or how he was faring. The moment he had dealt with the runner the clicker had been on his arse, making it impossible to keep taps on the younger man. Older infected were much tougher, their humanity completely lost and unable to feel any pain. While crossing the intersection to get out of its grasp Arthur shot wildly behind him in order to slow it down, merely making it stumble a few times. He needed to get to higher ground to gain some time and get the shotgun from his backpack, but nothing was close enough. And then the beast was on him. A violent tug on his pack ripped Arthur backwards, sending him to the ground. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and the gun from his hand. In an instant the clicker was on him, its dirty hands digging into his arms, the impossible weight of the creature keeping him down. 

“Fuck!”

Ramming his palms against its chest he struggled to bring more space between them. The lumpy head was directly above him, twitching in a nervous fashion, rotten teeth grinding in the misshapen mouth. Arthur felt his arms weaken. 

Merlin’s hands were trembling. It was easy to see that Arthur was losing this battle. Not much longer and the creature’s teeth would sink themselves into his neck. And still, Merlin didn’t dare to shoot. There was too much movement, the clicker’s motions fast and unpredictable. He was too afraid he’d hit the other man. The sensation of helplessness was nearly overwhelming, pushing his panicked heart high up into his throat. He had to do something, anything or Arthur’d die. He couldn’t let Morgana down like this.

The strength was leaving Arthur, the infected closing in. Mentally, he was already preparing himself to meet his sister again, much earlier than he’d thought. Morgana’d be furious. He just hoped that Merlin had made it so her sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. The answer came only a second later, when a shadow fell over them and a pale arm was being thrust between him and the creature. Yellow teeth sunk into soft skin and Arthur’s eyes grew wide.

“No! No!” he screamed as fresh blood welled up from the pierced flesh.

Merlin grunted, his face face twisting with agony, but he endured. Arthur was not safe yet. Raising a shaking hand he held the gun against the clicker’s head and fired. Again and again the bullets embedded themselves into the mutated tissue until his magazine was empty and the beast was dead.

* * *

“You are a complete buffoon.”

“Ow! That hurts!”

“Serves you right. Why’d you let that thing bite you? Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

Without pity Arthur held Merlin’s arm down to empty half a bottle of disinfectant over the wound. The bleeding had already lessened, meaning that the clicker’s teeth couldn’t have cut as deep as he’d initially thought. Still, Merlin was not in the clear yet.

The younger man was writhing on the floor. He fought to not lash out and aggravate his arm even more, though Arthur’s unsensible treatment made it extremely difficult. 

After the encounter they’d hurried away from the intersection, suspecting the tumult had attracted more infected in the area. Arthur had wrapped one of his spare t-shirts around the wound and dragged him further until they managed to leave the suburbs behind. By the time his companion had deemed them safe enough to break into one of the apartment buildings surrounding them Merlin had been utterly exhausted,

Now, half an hour later, he was still lying in the same spot he had collapsed on while Arthur had barricaded the door and duck out the med kit. 

“I was trying to save your arse”, Merlin bit out, ignoring the stinging pain as best as he could. “And I did.”

“Yeah, you did, while endangering yourself in the most idiotic way”, Arthur spit back while his hands worked in trained movements, finally covering the ugly teeth marks in a proper bandage. They’d turn into a prominent scar, even more obvious than the one Merlin was already carrying.

“Stop making such a big deal out of it. It’s not like I can get infected LIKE YOU!””

Arthur’s brows knitted together, his face hardening.

“Only because you’re immune to the fungus doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable, Merlin.” 

Finishing up he bent the outstretched arm to put it on Merlin’s stomach, probably using a little more force than necessary. The wince coming from the other’s insolent mouth gave him grim satisfaction.

”If you’re getting blood poisoning from whatever filth was in that thing’s mouth, and I have to use our precious penicillin on you, I’ll make your life hell.”

Turning his head slightly Merlin looked up, eyes touching Arthur’s sharp features. It was easy to detect the suppressed anger in the tight line of his lips. 

“Our lives are already hell, Arthur”, Merlin replied, pushing himself up.

There was no joke swinging in those words, no dark humor to lighten the mood. Only the ugly, inescapable truth of what the world had become to them. To humanity. Out of his depth as how to reply Arthur’s mouth stood agape for several seconds before he closed it again. The silence stretched on, only broken by the subtle sound of the summer breeze passing by the window. 

Merlin stared, unseeingly, at his outstrechted legs, letting pain and guilt wash over him in waves, forcing himself to go back to the moment his gaze had met Arthur’s in that night. The moment they had really seen the other for the very first time. There’d been so much hatred in those light blue eyes, so much anger. All directed at him and he deserved it. Deserved that wound which he had taken to save Morgana’s little brother. It was a small price to pay.

“I’m sorry about Morgana”, he whispered after an eternity had passed.

Caught in surprise Arthur observed Merlin’s bend form. He looked unbelievably meagre and weak in this moment. 

“I don’t think, I’ve said it before. Everything happened so fast and I was afraid. When I found out I was immune I went directly to Morgana and she assured me the Druids would keep me safe, that they’d help me. I was so eager to get out of Camelot, away from...from the threat of being discovered. When you and your men discovered us that night, sneaking out of the zone, I thought it was over. I was sure you’d kill me or take me to him.”

Arthur pressed his lips together. He remembered what Merlin had looked like in the harsh light of the torch. Like a deer in the headlights, frightened and freaked-out. The look in those big blue eyes was another reason why he’d given in to Morgana’s pleas. 

_Please Arthur, I’m… I’m begging you. Help Merlin to reach the others. Protect him! He… he might be our last hope…_

Her words had sounded unbelievable in that moment. A delusion brought on by the blood loss. And still he had listened. Fulfilling his sister’s last wish he had grabbed the man who’d been with her and dragged him into the darkness so they wouldn’t be discovered by his own men. The men he had set out with on the Colonel’s order to ambush a rebel group breaking out of the Camelot safe-zone in order to smuggle something unknown but highly illegal. 

Only when Merlin had shown Arthur the teeth marks on his lower leg a day later, had he understood. The wound was almost four weeks old at the time, no sign of infection to be detected. Their father had lied when he had claimed that humanity couldn’t be saved. 

And now Morgana was dead. Fallen in a fight to prove him wrong and bring the scattered remains of their dying race a chance of a cure in form of one immune man. 

“I probably would’ve, if she hadn’t been there. If I had caught you alone or with one of the other Druids I probably would’ve shot you, no questions asked. All blindly on my father’s orders.”

It hurt to admit the truth. But Arthur wasn’t going to hide behind excuses.

Merlin smiled sadly, unable to fully understand the fight Arthur must still be fighting within himself against the belief he once had in his father, who was the dictator of their small world. It had taken the death of his sister to make him see and there was no guarantee that the price was worth it.

“How could I be so lucky a second time in my life?” he asked, almost mocking himself. 

Arthur shrugged.

“Maybe something wants you to reach the rest of the rebels. Maybe you really are a key to the vaccine they’re trying to create.”

Their eyes locked when Merlin finally raised his head again. For the first time after their journey had begun they took a moment to comprehend the reason behind it and what a success could mean not only for their future but for the future of everyone. And for the first time there was something else than fear and anger blooming in their chests. It was a sliver of hope, fragile but sweet, woving its way deeply inside to take root at last.

Gifting Arthur with a broad smile Merlin released his breath, all tension melting from his body. Leaning backwards he lowered himself back to the ratty carpet, feeling a new wave of exhaustion pulling at his body. Before he hit the floor Arthur’s hand slipped to the back of his head to ease him down gently onto his balled up sweater.

“Thank you”, Merlin uttered, his eyes already falling shut. “I’m really glad you didn’t kill me.”

A smirk pulled on Arthur’s lips upon the comment. 

“Me too”, he replied while pulling off his jacket to cover Merlin’s upper body. “Me too.”

He’d get him to the Druids safe and sound, Arthur swore. And if it was the last thing he was doing.


End file.
